Malted Milk Balls
by Drachesky
Summary: Cargument about chocolate. No plot, just fluff.


**A/N: There's a small chocolate shop in town and a short debate/fight between my relatives ensued over their scrumptious malted milk balls. It sounded like something Steve and Danny would argue about, so I reworked it for them. Just some plotless drabble.**

"What are you doing?" Sensing movement in the seat next to him, Danny Williams pulled his eyes away from the road to glance at his partner sitting in the passenger seat of the Camaro. "Steven?"

"What?" Steve's face was the picture of innocence as he tried to discretely shove the bag of malted milk balls into his oversized cargo pants pocket. "I'm not doing anything," but his efforts failed miserably as one of the balls of chocolate tumbled out and fell onto the carpeted floor of the car.

"That's a whole lot of 'not anything' going into your cargo pants. And one's escaped- good job, you wasted perfectly good chocolate."

"Not wasted." Bending forward, Steve quickly scooped it up and popped it into his mouth. "Five second rule."

"Oh yeah? What about the _I bought it_ rule? Leave those alone. Those are mine."

"Thoo you wahnt it bahck?" Steve opened his mouth in a grin as a bit of chocolate dribbled down his chin.

"Would you quit that? Stop it!" Danny demanded, swatting him with his hand and rolling his eyes at the same time. "You're worse than Gracie when she was three. How many pain pills did they give you at the hospital anyway?"

"No pills. Just IV."

"Uh huh. Well it must've been the good stuff, buddy." From the corner of his eye, Danny saw his partner fumble in the bag for another chocolate. "Put those here," he ordered, patting the cup holder in the center console. "You've already got chocolate of your own. Grand Marnier pecans, remember?"

The dark chocolate sweets had been intended as a bribe for Steve and the bag of malted milk balls were a reward for himself for babysitting his battered partner, but Danny quickly realized that he should have left the pecans at the shop and bought two bags of milk balls instead.

"Hey, quit that!" Danny exclaimed. Steve's hand dipped once again into the bag and, although he was driving, Danny leaned across the car and pawed at his partner's hand in an effort to rescue the precious chocolates. Steve, however, pulled away and popped another ball in his mouth. Danny's hand harmlessly swatted the seat and batted at his leg, but missed the bag of milk balls entirely.

Steve watched his antics with great amusement. Granted, everything seemed funny with the drugs he currently had coursing through his system and he doubted he would recall more than a vague memory of this tomorrow, but he decided the situation would have been enjoyable even on a normal day. Danny's arm was not quite long enough to reach all the way to his cargo pants where the chocolates were stashed, and they were driving too fast on the curving coastal road for the detective to direct any more of his attention toward his objective.

"Eyes on the road, Danno," Steve chided, pushing the explorative hand away. Though down by one arm (the other was wrapped in a restrictive brace and strapped firmly to his torso in a sling) and high on painkillers, he was more than a match for the smaller, blond man. "I'll keep the chocolate safe over here."

"Yeah, I bet you will," Danny growled darkly as he sat up and refocused on the road in front of them.

"It's for your own good."

"I think I know what's good for me," Danny grunted, sliding into the right lane and slowing slightly as he reassessed his strategy.

"Not true. You have zero self-control. I'm helping you with that."

"What are you talking about? I have self-control and I don't need help. _You_ , however, are about to need a lot of help if you don't give me my dang malted milk balls back!" Irritated, Danny plunged an arm across the seat again, but Steve easily swatted it away.

"I'm saving you from yourself." Steve twisted slightly to take the bag of goodies further out of reach. "If it weren't for me, you'd eat the entire bag in one sitting."

"You don't know that." It was true, though, and Steve knew it as he grinned widely and deliberately waved another light chocolate ball in the hair. Danny rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Let's say it's true. But I'm still carefully controlling the speed at which I eat them. That speed just happens to be very fast."

"And not very healthy," Steve chided, the ball disappearing into his mouth.

"Yeah, well, it's my life. And those are my malted milk balls, after all. I bought them. I paid for them…"

"-Ergo, they are yours," Steve finished, using one of Danny's own words. "I get it, D."

"So give them to me."

Steve casually popped another one in his mouth and bit down hard, relishing the loud crunch that resounded throughout the car. "Now or later?"

" _Now_ ," Danny all but hissed as Steve swallowed and licked his lips in deliberate glee. Danny groaned. If he was lucky, half the bag might be left when they got home. "Preferably before you eat them all, you gargantuan oaf. If you want a bag, go buy one for yourself!"

"I can't. Doctor's orders."

Of course he would bring that up now. Any other time, the ex-SEAL would be sneaking out in the middle of the night to go on a swim or a jog, completely disregarding the dire warnings and instructions delivered by his doctor, but now he apparently wanted to follow the rules.

"The doctor gave me a list." Steve began to quote from memory: "No running, no driving, no swimming," Steve frowned briefly at that one, "no working, no lifting, no…"

"You know what? I will go buy you a bag. Just give me your wallet."

"Can't." _Crunch._ Loud chewing ensued. "Ith's at the bothom of th' ocean."

Right. Of course it was. Danny sighed loudly, just to let his partner know how aggrieved he was over the loss of his chocolates. "Fine. That's your bag now. Eat all you want." Danny decided he'd go back and get a bag for himself after dropping the SEAL off at home. "Just don't ruin your appetite. Dr. Carter said I have to put some food into you- real food- before your next dose. Chocolate doesn't count."

"What the doc doesn't know won't hurt him." Steve was chowing down now with all the fervor of a five-year-old, and Danny wouldn't be surprised if the bag was empty before they arrived.

"No, but it might hurt _you_. Two more- you can have two more, and then you have to save the rest for later." It was like raising a child. From the corner of his eye, Danny watched as Steve popped two more in his mouth and then, with a cocky grin, carefully picked out a third and held it up to the light. "No. No, Steven."

"One more won't hurt."

" _No._ "

"Aaaahhh," Steve mimed putting the ball in his mouth, smirking all the while.

"Oh look, we're home." _Thank goodness_. Danny shut off the car while Steve dropped the uneaten malt ball back in the package. "Let's get you inside."

Steve climbed out of the car on his own, the bag of malt balls clutched tightly in his good hand. "I'm fine, Danny," he pushed away the helping hand. "I didn't injure my legs."

"Not your legs I'm worried about, babe." Hovering behind him, Danny followed him up the walkway to the porch. Here, the taller man stopped, hesitated, and wavered slightly before finally taking the single step up onto the front porch. It only took a moment to regain his balance, but in that time, Danny quickly stepped around the Navy man, deftly inserted the key in the lock and opened the door.

The trick, he had learned, was to help without being obvious. Any offer of helpfulness was an affront to the SEAL's stubbornly independent nature and would likely be rebuffed, so Danny had found that sneakiness and deception were key. With that in mind, he moved quickly around Steve and sat down on the steps, effectively blocking his route to the master bedroom upstairs.

"You going to lay down for a bit?" Danny asked casually from his spot. "I'll make dinner."

Steve frowned. He looked at the stairs, then back at Danny.

Danny pretended not to notice. "Stir fry sound good? Or you want steak?"

"Uh, stir fry." Steve took a few wobbly steps toward the steps, then latched onto the wall to keep his balance.

Danny didn't move. "What else do you want? I'm thinking I'll add onion and peppers, and you can have mango on the side."

Steve didn't seem to hear him at first. He took another step and stopped again, clutching the wall like a lifeline.

Danny tensed preparing to jump up and catch him if he began to fall. "Well babe? Onions and peppers?"

"What? Yeah. Sounds good." Apparently giving up on the idea of sleeping in his own bed, Steve now turned toward the hallway. "I'm gonna lay down for a bit, Danny."

"Good. You do that." Danny waited until he was a safe distance down the hall before getting up to follow him. He turned down the sheets in the guest bedroom, uncapped a bottle of water and left it on the nightstand with the next dose of painkillers while Steve undressed. Then he carefully closed the blinds and pulled the curtains to.

"Don' let me sleep too late," Steve mumbled, falling into the pillows. "Got stuff to do."

"Okay," Danny said without promising anything. "Good night."

"'night."

Turning off the light, Danny closed the door and returned to the living room. The half-eaten bag of malted milk balls sat on the table. With a grin, he grabbed one and popped it in his mouth. "You're all mine." The ones that were left, anyway. He'd find a way to make Steve buy him a bag later. He chomped down in heavenly delight as the inside crumbled to pieces in his mouth. It was almost worth the last six hours at the hospital and the four before that in the Coast Guard helicopter, searching the choppy waters off Makapu'u Point in the dark and the howling wind.

Yes, he deserved every single one of these chocolate goodies.

But- he stretched wearily- his partner wouldn't sleep forever and he _had_ promised Dr. Carter that he would feed him. He stood stiffly, popped his back, and moved slowly toward the kitchen, the bag of malt balls forgotten on the coffee table.

The next time Danny remembered the malted milk balls, he was at home in his own bed and on the verge of drifting to sleep. He heaved a sigh. Maybe Steve would leave the bag for him? Danny snorted at the thought. Of course his partner wouldn't leave the bag for him. He wouldn't even leave one chocolate. But Danny could always buy more. And with a quick promise to himself to stop by the shop soon, he fell asleep.

…

 _1 week later_

"Here."

"What's this?" Suspicious, Danny took the small box and turned it over in his hands, shaking it slightly to see if it rattled.

"Happy birthday." Steve settled into the nearest chair, careful to avoid bumping his arm and its sling on the armrest. "I know it's early…"

"My birthday isn't for another two months!" Truly mystified, Danny tugged at the red ribbon on the box until it fell away and carefully pried the top open. A puff of tissue paper greeted him, followed by a small business card that he barely glanced at. He dug further. His fingers touched plastic and beneath the plastic, hard lumps.

Danny pulled it out.

A bag of malted milk balls.

"What is this?"

"It's a thank you."

"A thank you?" It was the first time Steve had bought him a present in return for his risks of life and limb, hospital vigils, and mothering duties. "Why?"

"I, uh… I don't remember a lot about that night after they- you- pulled me out of the water," Steve waved his good hand vaguely, "but I remember that there were malted milk balls at one point. And I remember eating them. I think they were yours. So," he gestured to the bag. "Thank you."

Danny hefted the bag in one hand. It was big, much bigger than the bag he had bought last week. "They're all mine?" he asked, not quite sure that there wasn't some sort of string attached.

"All yours."

"You aren't going to try to steal them?"

"No."

"Eat them when I'm not looking?"

"How long will it take you to eat them all?"

Danny grinned and decided to show him by opening the bag and grabbing a handful.

"In case you're thinking of eating all those at once, I'm not performing the Heimlich if you choke. I can't do it one-handed." Steve patted his sling.

Danny ignored him. He shoved the first chocolate into his mouth, savoring the milky sweetness and the pop of the crusty center. The second that followed it was just as good as the first, and the third tasted downright heavenly. He reached into the bag again and grabbed another handful.

"Does this, ah, make up for me eating your bag?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "What about the other stuff?"

"The other stuff?" Steve asked, nonplussed.

"Helicopter rides in the dark over a cold ocean, stressing over whether or not you're dead, long waits in the hospital, running errands for you, making sure you have enough to eat and clean laundry and all the right medications…" The list could have continued, but Danny left it there as he loaded his mouth with more chocolate.

"We're friends, Danny. Friends do that for each other without chocolate."

"But it helps." He dropped two more in his mouth.

"So every time you help me, I'm supposed to pay you or something? That's not how friendship works."

"But it could." It might be petty, but Danny had always been annoyed that chocolate seemed restricted to the female sex. A world where he was eligible for such treats couldn't be half-bad, he thought, and he crunched down on another ball.

Steve was not impressed. "What about all the times I saved your life? That cabin fire, the sarin gas, the collapsed building, that time we were captured by the Yakuza... I think we're even, Danny. In fact," leaning forward, Steve reached for the bag, "I think you may even owe me a few."

Danny's yelp could be heard throughout the Five-0 office.

Several glass doors away, Chin glanced at Kono and smiled. "I guess Steve's better."

"Sounds like it."

Danny's rant rose to their ears and Kono gave a little sigh of satisfaction. Yes, things were back to normal. "Want to see what the argument is?"

"Wouldn't miss it." and Kono followed him out to catch the entertainment.

 **A/N: No plot. Just chocolate and friendship and a weak ending.**

 **Cockroaches are coming!**


End file.
